Family
by d4202
Summary: A standalone one-shot in which Tim is saved by Jason who then yells at his brothers for being accused of hurting Tim in the first place.


All characters are property of DC Comics. I do not own anything.

13 HOURS AGO

Nightwing knew he wasn't the only one in the room that thought Red Hood was behind Red Robin's disappearance. He was, on the other hand, the only one guilty enough not to say it out loud. Robin had said it first, in a way that reminded everyone in the room of said accused, but Nightwing felt too guilty to say that aloud either, so the room remained silent.

"We'll wait another hour, then we'll call," Batman finally said, and the boys nodded in agreement.

But Nightwing couldn't wait, not with the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him that Tim was the _good_ one, and there was no way he would be late on purpose without turning on his comm. So Nightwing slipped upstairs and called of his own accord, realizing after pulling out his phone that Jason never gave them a number or a communicator frequency. In fact, when they had asked, he said "For what? So you can track me and put me back in Arkham? No can do. You want to reach me, you can _find_ me." Apparently Tim _had_ taken the time to find the lost ex-Robin, needing his expertise on some Teen Titans case. Which meant that Bruce wanted Red Robin home afterwards, and Tim was nothing if not compliant to all of Bruce's orders.

Well, at least Dick had one number that could get him to the Red Hood. Before Batman could come up and stop him, Dick dialed Roy's number.

"Dickie!" the man on the other end of the line yelled, and Dick smiled in spite of the urgency.

"Roy," he said back, "it's good to hear your voice, man."

"I know, right?" Roy laughed. "When are _you_ going to come out here instead of sending the little one?"

"Believe it or not, there's a littler one. And I'll show up once you guys stay in a damn place long enough for me to get to the location." Dick swept the room for any eaves-droppers. "Anyway, I can't really catch up right now. I have to talk to Jason."

"Jason? Come on! You know I have the better people sk-" Roy was cut off as his phone was snatched. Dick could hear complaints in the background.

"What is it?"

Dick rolled his eyes. "Nice to hear from you, too."

Jason seemingly laughed over the phone, though Dick knew it was a bitter and resentful sound. "No, it's not. The only reason you're calling is because you want something, and I doubt it's my charm. So, I'll ask again, what is it?"

Dick was silent, embarrassed that Jason was right. So, this is what they were now.

"Tim hasn't shown up yet."

The accusation was left unsaid, but Jason heard it all the same. He resisted the urge to rip into his brother, and asked instead, "How long ago was he supposed to check in?"

"Roughly two hours."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing I planted a tracker on him, then." Before Dick could respond, Jason hung up the phone and tossed it to Roy. "Don't answer that when he calls back," Jason said, and took his helmet out from his suit-case. "I'm going bird hunting."

1 HOUR LATER

The GPS got him to Tim's location within the hour. He hadn't gotten far, it seemed. Tim had been in civilian clothes when he left, which meant he wouldn't fight back as hard and risk getting discovered. What Jason wanted to know was why the Hell the kid was in this predicament, GPS dot blinking over an abandoned warehouse in the middle of South America.

Before approaching, Jason was struck with the memory of a different warehouse, this one in the Middle East.

He shook off the memory and pulled out his gun. He was no coward, and he would be damned if he couldn't save a Robin from a warehouse the way he had so desperately wanted to be saved himself.

Tim (_Red Robin! _he reminded himself. _Stop making this personal!)_ was in bad shape, unconscious and broken in between two low level drug lords. They hadn't noticed the new arrival yet, were talking frantically about whether or not the boy had called the police before they caught him snooping around.

Red Hood rolled his eyes under the mask. Of course he had to boy scout brothers, who couldn't just go back home without trying to stop _all_ crime along the way.

The part of him that still recognized the word "brother" also yelled at him that the kid on the floor wouldn't want him to shoot these guys. Hell, even his enraged and maybe deranged mind saw that these two were now unarmed, choosing to drop their crowbars _(No- there's not a weapon in sight. They were beating him with their fists. Don't make this about you! Focus!)_ to wonder what to do.

But, if he took Tim and left them for the cops, left them _alive_, it meant he still had that need (_That disease!)_ to be good enough for "Daddy," and he doesn't have or want that. Not anymore. It is simply no longer his style. The gunshots to the skull the attempted murderers get, on the other hand, are.

He shoved the bodies away with his foot and focused his attention on Tim. He was breathing, but it was shallow. He seemed to realize someone was crouching over him, and started to raise his arms to defend himself. "Sh. . ." Jason whispered, trying his best to imitate Dick, and _damn_ if that strategy didn't sound familiar. "You're okay, little bro. You're with family now." He started looking over the kid again, proud of himself for coming up with something at least remotely comforting to say _(Because when was the last time a Gothamite gave you the same courtesy?)_, but stopped poking and prodding when he saw Tim's ocean blue eyes open.

Tim wanted to tell him he was shocked by the phrase, meant to say that he thought Jason was "too cool" to be his brother. But Tim Drake was battered and only semi-conscious, and while his genius brain could form the words, saying them was a lot more difficult. So, he settled on something simple, before succumbing once again to the darkness. "But. . . You're not family."

Jason's face fell

NOW

Tim has heard in the past that people don't usually remember what they do or say before the pass out. Tim definitely remembered, and it hurt him more than the broken rib.

Dick came in, out of his Nightwing costume because Alfred won't allow them in the house, and gave Tim a smile of pure relief and joy.

Tim frowned. Dick frowned too, and Tim thought that maybe Jason's face looked like that also because of him, and Tim's frown deepened.

"Tim, what's wrong? Do you need some more painkillers?"

"No, I'm okay," he replied, but he wasn't. He wasn't because Dick had told him before he left not to push Jason's buttons, because maybe they didn't act like a family_ now_, but the future was still up in the air.

Well, the future had come crashing down, right on top of him.

"You know," Dick said, more serious now. "Jason saved you."

"I know." The pain was making it hard to mask his emotions, as was his older brother.

"Maybe he's ready to spend some time here, with us."

"Maybe."

"Tim," Dick sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know you and Jason had rough first impressions of each other, but try to-"

"Stop," a rough voice said behind Dick. It was Jason. He looked tired, but still had that hard edge of class mixed with cool rage. "Don't tell the kid how to act," he said, his eyes falling on Tim. "That's what makes little birdies rebel and get blown up."

Both Dick and Tim fell into an uncomfortable silence, unsure of how to respond. Fortunately, they were saved by Jason himself. "I hope you're feeling better. Just wanted to make sure you woke up before I left so that you can tell them I'm not the one that kicked your ass."

"You're leaving?" Dick asked. Tim was still locking eyes with Jason, trying to assess how much pain was held there because of his one damn comment.

"You expected me to stay?" he bit back, looking hard at both Tim and Dick before turning on his heel and leaving as abruptly as he had come.

Tim tried to get up but was stopped by his brother's hand on his chest. "Don't worry about him," he said. "We can't expect everything to change overnight. There's nothing any of us can do."

"You're wrong," Tim blurted out, guilt etching his features. "I did something terrible before he came here with me. I think I ruined everything."

Dick's confused and worried expression only caused Tim more pain over the matter. He adjusted himself as Dick sat on the edge of the bed. "Explain to me what happened," Dick said, covering Tim's hand with his own.

An uncertain pause. Then, "I told Jason he wasn't family."

The hand tensed, but Dick couldn't find it in his heart to completely disagree. "Oh," was all he could muster.

"But I didn't mean it like that!" Tim yelled. "I meant so say he didn't _act_ like family. But I was already blacking out, and I was so blindsided by him trying to comfort me. I'm sorry. God, I just ruined your only chance to get him back."

Of course, Alfred chose this time to come in with some food for their injured bird. "Master Richard," he began, "if I may have a word with Master Timothy alone?"

Dick nodded and threw one more smile at Tim before laving and closing the door behind him. Tim fidgeted nervously as Alfred put the tray down and made himself comfortable, which in reality just meant standing by the bed. Regardless of context, Alfred was always proper.

"Master Timothy," Alfred started, and Tim almost cringed in anticipation. "I'm sure you have many things going on in your mind at present moment, but your health should be your priority."

Tim looked up at the older gentleman. "But Jason-"

"Waited in the living room until everyone was out or asleep, and then proceeded to sit just outside your door so that he could hear the monitor hooked up to your pulse. I should add that that was at three this morning, and that he has yet to get any sleep or even lay on a bed, regardless of how many time I tried to get him to do so."

Tim was even more ashamed at what he said after Alfred's revelation. "Why would he do that?"

"If you require an explanation," he said, eyes twinkling mischievously, "Master Jason will be here for at least another two hours while I make him wait for breakfast."

Tim smiled thankfully, and Alfred left as silently as he had come.

Bruce was out of the house, and that was the _only _reason Jason was talked into staying and waiting for breakfast _(Yeah, keep telling yourself that.)_. It wasn't that he couldn't get breakfast with the Outlaws, what with his days as a poor street kid fully behind him, it was just that Alfred's cooking was. . . Alfred's cooking.

Tim came down the stairs slowly, Dick following cautiously behind, and suddenly Jason didn't give a damn about breakfast, he just wanted to get the Hell _out_.

"Hey, Alfred, on second thought, I don't need any food," he said, and shoved himself away from the table, standing up to full height. Tim stopped walking and simply looked at his predecessor. Even now, one could tell Jason had been a street kid, and he had more bulk than the acrobat before him. He was also taller, with broader shoulders, harsher eyes, and a cloud of aggression around him that seemed out of place in the sunlight of the manor.

Dick, placed firmly behind Tim in case he fell, also noticed these things, and wondered if maybe Jason would still be a gun-toting vigilante if he had never met the Batman. If maybe it was fate that brought him to this place, and the only thing Bruce had done by taking him in was complicate the evolution.

Jason looked up at them frozen on the stairs, at their perfect familial bond and their innocent blue eyes, and wondered the exact same thing.

"Master Jason," Alfred said as he walked into the dining room from the kitchen, "please sit down. Your breakfast is ready and, as you have quite a unique taste, you _will_ stay and eat."

Jason sighed, glared at the two on the stairs, and sat back down.

Amazing. One word from Alfred and the mighty Red Hood grumbled and submitted. Dick smiled victoriously and followed Tim down the stairs.

Jason's face was hot with embarrassment and anger as Dick and Tim sat down across from him. _(Well, I guess I'll just have to get myself kicked out if they want me to stay so badly.)_

"Jason," Tim started, but his voice died when he saw Jason's sinister smile.

"Cut the crap," Dick said, also noticing the change. "He wants to talk, and you should let him."

"Aw, Dick, I'm hurt! Just an hour ago, you wanted everyone to go easy on me, and now you're trying to pull rank? I'm not your family anymore, big bird, so you can't really boss me around."

"That symbol on your chest says differently, Jay."

Jason's smile dropped. _(Damn him! He sees through you!)_ "Yeah, well, if you don't want me to wear it, all you had to do was ask. Come and visit, even. I mean," Jason leaned in closely and dropped his voice, smile returning, "we all know that you could find me no matter how many times I move. That's what the Bat's computer is for. And we all know your aversion to me isn't about killing. Not anymore, anyway, what with Babs running around with the crazy sword lady and an eco-_terrorist_."

Dick's eyes narrowed at the in-depth mention of Batgirl. Jason had been keeping tabs on her and the Birds of Prey, maybe all of them.

"So," Jason started again, "that begs the question: why _am_ I still the unmentionable part of the family history? Is it because everyone still thinks I'm a genuinely bad guy, or is it because you just _don't like me_?"

Dick leaned back in his chair, struck back by the question. Sadly, he realized, Jason was right. Barbara was on a team with Poison Ivy and a woman who openly killed to get spirits questioned by her dead husband. Starling used guns. Hell, if they were going that far into it, even the police force used guns when necessary, and they were always the good guys. What made Red Hood any different, especially now that he had backed off of Gotham, gotten Roy out of prison, and brought Tim back safe and sound?

"Oh," Jason said, standing up yet again. Alfred wasn't there to save the family now. "You hadn't thought of that. I forgot; you _don't_ think. Now about this, not about _me_. Daddy told you I was no good and you just believed him. Way to be your own man, Nightwing." The sneer on his face seemed as poisonous as his words. Dick was still shocked into silence, barely comprehending the sentences hurled at him.

Tim weakly slammed on the table, sick of the exchange that had veered so off course of what he had wanted. "Do you _want_ us to kick you out?"

Jason's expression fell dangerously again.

"Holy crap, you want us to kick you out."

"You said it yourself, Timmy. I'm not manor material."

Tim raised his voice. "I didn't mean it like that! I thought that's what you wanted, but then Alfred told me about what you did-"

"Shut up," Jason said frantically.

"-and, frankly, I almost couldn't believe it. _The_ Jason Todd, the toughest guy I know, telling me it'll be alright, and then waiting outside my room to make sure I was okay? That makes no sense!"

"What?" Dick asked.

"Shut up!" Jason took one step backwards.

"What happened to that guy? The guy that brought me here and took care of me? Because, I'm starting to think that _he's_ the real Jason Todd. And I want to know what he wants, because I know it's not this."

"You want to know what I want? I want to stop being blamed for everything! I want someone to call and _not_ be accusing me of kidnapping someone else! I want to do a good deed and get thanked for it, _not _told I'm not family! I want someone to _want _me to be family, without me having to make the first step!"

Tim stood shakily and walked over to Jason, who was breathing heavily like a caged animal and watching Tim warily. The dark circles under his eyes seemed even darker, and Tim remembered that Jason had yet to get any sleep. "Thank you for saving my life, Jason."

Jason shook his head violently. He wanted to scream at the stupid kid that it was too little, too late, but he couldn't form the words that he knew in his heart were a lie. "Whatever," he said, and turned away from them, walking towards the front door.

"Jay," Dick said, and Jason stopped walking but didn't turn around. Dick took it as a good sign. "I don't know if you like me, if you're my friend, but you saved Tim, and I'm in your debt because of it. So," Dick swallowed his apprehension and his pride, "next time you're in town, let me buy you a beer. Just you and me."

A flicker of a smile passed quickly over Jason's face. "The coordinates of where I'm staying are written on the napkin under my plate. Come by and I'll let you buy a round. It would be nice to talk to a guy other than Harper."

Dick gave a small laugh and Jason left without ever turning the boys' direction. Once he heard a motorcycle start, Dick helped Tim back to his seat.

"I honestly have no idea what just happened," Tim said.

Dick smiled reassuringly. "I thought he needed sugarcoating, needed the power to dictate terms, but I was wrong. He needs something else, and I'm not really sure what that is, but at least now I have an in to find out."

Tim nodded silently, still somewhat lost. He and Jason were so different that the older boy was a mystery. Or, maybe differences had nothing to do with it; maybe it was exactly what Jason had said. Bruce told them to forget about the almost brother, and so they did, just like that. Now Tim was really confused.

"I'm afraid he has a point," Dick said suddenly, his face somber. "I'm afraid we keep him out because of our own stupid reasons, and not because of anything he did."

"Me too," Tim agreed, "but we didn't make him not come home after the Lazarus Pit. We didn't make him want revenge. And, after he stopped trying to hurt the family, we didn't make him leave town and cover his tracks."

"We didn't stop him, either."

Blue eyes met blue eyes. "No, we didn't stop him, either."

END


End file.
